"Ze-ze-ze~ Perfect. Nothing wasted."
Scalpel bobbed his head in delight, surveying the disassembled remains of T-18. It was unclear if he was happy about the recycling or just the sheer act of taking something apart.
"Starscream. Your Energy Core."
Scalpel pointed a claw at a blue, pulsating sphere rolling on the floor.
Nathan tracked the object.
It was small, easily held in a human hand, yet it radiated power. The surface was mirror-smooth crystal, deep azure, with arcs of lightning crackling beneath the surface.
So that's the substitute Spark.
It wasn't a true Spark—it lacked the divine, living essence of Primus—but it was a potent battery.
"Lord Starscream. Your property."
T-19, ever the eager sycophant, scooped up the core and presented it to the Air Commander.
Starscream took it, holding it up to the light like a jewel.
"Good. Intact," he sneered. "I'll use it for the next batch. Waste not, want not."
To Starscream, a Middle-Tier warrior was less valuable than a rechargeable battery.
"As for the scrap..." Starscream kicked at the pile of T-18's limbs. He bent down and plucked a small, complex mechanism from the mess.
"Scalpel, I'm taking the T-Cog. You can have the rest for your little experiments. Consider it a bonus."
"Ze-ze~ Understood, Starscream."
Scalpel didn't argue. He was practically vibrating with excitement.
"I've been wanting to compare Earth metals with Cybertronian alloys. This is excellent test data."
"Hmph." Starscream's optics narrowed. "Just remember, Scalpel. You still owe me an Information Chip."
"Relax, Starscream. Three days. Give me three Earth days, and I will code a replacement."
Information Chips?
Nathan listened intently. So Scalpel isn't just a medic; he's a software engineer. And their relationship is purely transactional.
"Fine," Starscream growled. "In three days, I expect results."
He turned to leave. "Come, Decepticons."
Finally.
Nathan's spark surged with hope. We're leaving.
Leaving the lab meant leaving the base. Leaving the base meant opportunities. He needed to scout the terrain, find a computer terminal, maybe even slip away to locate the Hoover Dam.
"Wait!"
Scalpel's voice shattered Nathan's optimism.
"I have a condition."
Starscream paused, his wings flaring in irritation. "What now, you wretched bug?"
"I need an assistant," Scalpel said flatly. "I didn't back up the source code for the Information Chip. The original was fried inside T-18's skull. I need a live subject with the chip installed to reverse-engineer the data. Otherwise, three days isn't enough."
Scalpel's large, bulbous eyes swiveled toward the line of drones.
Nathan felt a cold dread settle in his tank.
Don't pick me. Don't pick me. I'm terrible at coding.
"I warn you, Scalpel. Do not play games with me."
"Just pick one!" Scalpel snapped. He raised a claw and pointed directly at Nathan.
"Him. T-22."
"I need T-22. Take the rest."
Fuck.
Nathan cursed his luck. Did I buy a lottery ticket in a past life? Why me?
Starscream glanced at Nathan, then shrugged. "Very well. T-22, you remain here. Assist Scalpel. I will retrieve you in three days."
"Yes, Lord Starscream."
Nathan bowed his head, hiding the grimace on his faceplate. Resistance was impossible.
...
HISSS.
The heavy blast doors of the lab slid open. Starscream led the other six drones out into a long metallic corridor.
As the doors began to close, a text message suddenly overlaid Nathan's vision. It wasn't spoken; it was a direct, encrypted transmission beamed straight into his cerebral cortex.
[ ENCRYPTED CHANNEL OPEN: STARSCREAM ]
[ MESSAGE: Watch Scalpel. If he does anything suspicious in the next three days, report it to me immediately. ]
Nathan froze.
The message vanished as quickly as it appeared.
He looked up, but the doors had already sealed. Starscream was gone.
A spy mission?
Nathan's processor whirred. Starscream doesn't trust Scalpel. He thinks the Doctor is plotting something.
Or maybe he's just paranoid. It is Starscream, after all.
Regardless, Nathan was now trapped. He was stuck in a lab with a mad scientist, tasked with being a double agent for a paranoid warlord.
Great. Just great.
He analyzed his options.
If I report nothing, Starscream might think I'm incompetent. If I report too much, Scalpel might dissect me.
The best play is malicious compliance.
I'll watch him. But unless Scalpel tries to blow up the planet or uninstall my head, I didn't see anything.
He turned to the small, spider-like Decepticon. He decided to play the role of the loyal, slightly dim-witted soldier.
"Lord Scalpel," Nathan said, his voice smooth and respectful. "How may I assist you?"
Scalpel stared at him, his optical lenses dilating.
Three days, Nathan thought. I just have to survive three days.